I was full of drama yesterday.
I hate it when I'm asked "what's wrong?" and the result is a blubbery "I DON'T KNOW!" and "you just don't get it."
Sigh. You'd think being around on this earth for my length of time, I would have developed the ability to read my emotions.
So psycho wife kicked in, moody, grumpy, and feeling unappreciated.
I've been feeling worn for a while. I've been the one to organize and take care of stuff. B's been chaotically busy at work. And while he's grateful, I don't think he realizes that, hello, it does not take 2 minutes to talk to an insurance company. EVER. Or organize a move. Or a wedding. Or find a new house. Or a carpool.
I made some quasi-flippant remark yesterday, B called me on it, and the drama train rolled into town. "I do so much for you and you call me out on this?"
End result: I need to take on less. Breathe more. And when I do something, I can't just let it slide by; B wants to know what happens. I guess I can't get upset if he doesn't realize I have done something. And he's a pretty darn good guy. I think I need to have goals and aspirations, but I also need to realize that I don't have to accomplish them overnight.
I guess it was made worse by the fact that we (finally) decided to have a garage instead of a storage unit, so we dragged 80% of the boxes from the garage into the rooms they need to be unpacked into.
And of course, the big bookshelf that needs to be set up? Couldn't find the freakin' screws. Finally found them around 9pm. And of course, I was then dead-set on putting up the bookshelf that had caused me so much angst. Finished at 10:40, which I regretted at 6 this morning when I left the house for work.
So there I was, in my lovely new home, surrounded by boxes and my lovely husband. And I was blubbering.
And no, I am not pregnant. Just an insufferable wife... well, for Sunday afternoon at least.